That Year
by Disdain.in.the.membrane
Summary: A story about friendship, forgiveness, and being okay. TW: Suicide.


**That Year**

Alumni poured into the cramped gymnasium. Kyle stood at the entrance, feeling sick to his stomach. He hadn't stepped foot in the school since his last day, even skipped out on graduation. He clutches onto the bottle of wine that he's suddenly debating on ditching this reunion bullshit to chug wine in his car.

"You made it," A familiar voice rings through his ears. Kyle turns to greet Wendy, who in return hugs him. "I thought you wouldn't show."

Kyle lets out a chuckle, "I'm ready to haul ass outta here."

Wendy slaps his free hand, "Not on my watch," she says before dragging him into the gym.

Kyle looks through the crowd of people, cradling his bottle of wine, anxiety washing over him. He starts grinding his teeth. Remembering how much these walls truly held within them. These faces only shared a glimpse of what he had seen.

He finds himself walking towards the table full of snacks and drinks, trading his wine for a glass of champagne which he takes as much as he can get. Kyle keeps his head down as he already sees the legs of the stand behind the table.

Why did he come here?

A pair of boots walks up, Kyle watches them stop next to him. "He always loved attention, that asshole," There's nostalgia in his voice, along with a heartwarming chuckle.

Kyle slowly lifts his gaze to meet Kennys'. And Kenny must see the alarm that goes off in Kyle's head because he then says, "I think Wendy will behead you if you try to run."

Kenny drags him across the gym to meet his little perfect family. He had a wife now, married because you couldn't have kids unless you were wed (he was strictly catholic when it came to that). And he had a son who was going into kindergarten and a daughter on the way. Kyle felt way too distant as Kenny explained to his wife, Veronica, how he grew up with the little 'shithead.' Kyle, being as polite as he was, nodded his head and introduced himself, half-drunk from chugging the champagne at the table.

Suddenly, a loud and unmistakable voice approaches them with a greeting. Kyle feels a shiver run down his spine as he hears the familiar, "Guys," in the man's voice.

"Poor Boy, Jew, what a shocking discovery," Sarcasm dripped from his mouth.

"Nope," Kyle moved back to the table, "not drunk enough."

He noticed his act to move towards the alcohol stopped Cartman, but not Kenny. The blond followed behind him. They stood in silence as they both drank from the glasses.

After a long moment Kenny's wife walked up and whispered in Kenny's ear about something which somehow ended up with Kyle being dragged back to Cartman.

They stood in silence.

And it was awkward, and uncomfortable, and anywhere was looking better than here. Kyle sighed when Wendy walked up and started conversation with everyone. It was through casual conversation that he found out Cartman had started some online business which allowed him to work from home. Kenny was the manager of a store now, slowly moving up the ladder, and his wife was a trained cook. Wendy was working on going to become a pediatrician. And Kyle even felt comfortable enough to talk about his travels around the world, teaching English.

Everyone was growing up. All grown up, but still in a high school gymnasium with the same memory hanging over their heads.

Wendy and Veronica had found an instant liking to each other and talked away, both being social butterflies. Which left the three boys alone.

"I have a bottle of vodka in my car," Cartman finally said.

Kenny spoke, which surprised Kyle because he was thinking the same thing, "Oh thank baby Jesus."

It was how the trio found themselves taking sips at a time between each other. They stood in a semi-circle around Cartman's small car, which Kyle was still trying to wonder how he fit in.

Kenny was the first to speak though, "It was Wendy's idea." And through Kyle's drunken fog he gave a confused look, and Eric must've done the same, "The stand," Kenny continued, "of…"

They all looked at the asphalt.

Cartman mumbled something and only Kenny looked up and asked what he said. "He wanted to be a veterinarian, that hippie," He took a gracious sip from the vodka bottle.

And he did. Stan did, Kyle found himself thinking.

In high school, it was their junior year, and Stan was taking some class that talked about farm animals. He would always go on about weird diseases that seemed to stand out in some traumatizing manner. And Kyle would listen, they all would listen. And they all would laugh at him.

"Shut up," He would say as he continued his lesson about cows. It was then that he had officially given up meat.

Kyle sat against the car, laughing to himself. He couldn't stop laughing..

Stan should've been here.

But only his picture was. Just like Kenny had told him about on graduation.

"Always been a lightweight," Kenny placed a hand on Kyle in an attempt to help keep him balanced.

"Remember when," Kyle heard himself slur, "the asshole took us to that thing where they showed cats on ropes." He was laughing now, "And, it was some crazy cat circus."

The other to bust out laughing, remembering the cat circus. "It was pretty cool," Carman almost whispered.

Their laughter died down.

"I'm a vegetarian," Kyle said, looking at invisible lint on his shirt.

They were all quiet again. They were missing their number four, and they could feel it.

"He should've been here," Kenny said. "You hear that?" He yelled up into the sky, frightening the other two men, "You should've been here," his voice dropped off. And that was when Kyle noticed that Kenny was trying not to cry.

Kyle saw Kenny cry at the funeral, just as he watched Cartman pretend he wasn't crying. Kyle didn't cry.

He hasn't cried over it.

Cartman had turned his back at one point during the conversation. He held the alcohol in his thick hands, and took a swig before handing it to Kenny. Kenny wrapped his fingers slowly around the bottle. Kyle watched, almost in slow motion, as the man drank, a single tear escaped his left eye.

"I hated him," Kyle said, looking directly into Kenny's eyes.

"You were young, we all were." Kenny said back.

And they were. It was a New Year's party, their junior year. They all wanted to go, but Stan was too upset to. He had just gotten into a big fight with his parents, just as he always did this time of year. There were always multiple fights from Thanksgiving until spring break. They all knew that, everyone did.

"Stay with me," Stan had mumbled from Kyle's blankets. He had spent the night. Only his black hair could be seen from under the covers.

Kyle sighed and pulled up his pants, "I already promised Token and Kenny I'd be there." They were the party holders.

"I don't wanna go," Kyle could barely hear Stan now.

He let out a frustrated groan, "Fine. You know what? Great. Stay in bed your entire life for all I care. I'm going out to have fun, socialize. You can stay here, mope around and cry. Be my guest." Kyle grabbed his keys and wallet and stormed out.

"Kyle—" Was the last thing he heard from his best friend.

Kyle was brought back to reality by Cartman's obnoxious voice, "I shouldn't have come here."

Kenny grinned, "But you brought the good stuff."

"Just like that day," Kyle closed his eyes. He opened them back up and found the other two staring straight at him. He realized he was crying. Tears ran down his face, and it was a quick progression into a loud, ugly sob.

"Woah," Carman took a step back.

Kenny remained silent.

"Why did he—why didn't we…" Kyle couldn't finish between breaths. He was trying to calm down, really he was. "I saw a guy in Spain, he looked just like him and I," They patiently waited for Kyle to finish his story, "I went off on him real bad. I just, he looked just like him. His eyes, his hair, he was young too. Thank everything holy he didn't know a word of English. He was so young." The last part wasn't about the encounter in Spain, and they all knew that.

"It wasn't anybody's fault," Kenny said.

Cartman looked up to the sky, "Hippie asshole. We—" He didn't finish his sentence. Kyle turned to him and saw that he was crying, silently to himself.

And then Kenny broke down, "I don't blame him for anything we were shit friends."

The three men cried in the parking lot of their old high school over their old best friend.

"I'm sorry," Kyle managed to say, he was an ugly crier with snot running down his face which he quickly cleaned up. "I am so sorry, I just," He took a moment, "I should've stayed."

But they all knew that didn't matter. Even if he did stay with Stan that winter day, he still would've gone home by himself, or pretend to go home. It was that same night no one had heard from him until the party heard sirens. They thought they were getting busted but it was a much worse outcome.

Kyle wishes they just got busted.

They found Stan on the cement right below the tallest building in the town. He didn't die right on impact, but he was so bloody he probably thought he was dead. They found alcohol in his system too, later on. A lot of it. Kyle had tried convincing himself that had a good hand in it, but he knew. He should've stayed and made Stan stay. They could have played games and eaten junk food all night.

But no. Kyle found himself at a funeral on the first week of the new year. Kenny, always being touchy feely, clung onto Kyle's shoulder and openly sobbed. Cartman looked straight ahead, avoid eye contact of everyone he came across. And Kyle was mad, completely outraged. At Stan. At himself. At Kenny and Cartman and Stan's parents and his parents and everyone in town that has ever known Stan.

He was outraged.

And he didn't cry throughout the entire thing. He remembers Ike crying on the couch after the ceremony, and Kyle hugged him and comforted him. But Ike was crying about Kyle and how lonely he must've been.

"Asshole," Kyle screamed. And Ike shrunk back into the sofa. "He made you cry," Kyle kicked over the coffee table, "He made Kenny cry, Cartman, he never cries and he. He was, and his mom's makeup was so off. It's never off," The living room was a mess after he was finished with his rampage. Blood boiling, he didn't see his parents watching from the stairs.

Kyle looked around at the now torn up room, picture frames and the bookshelf was entirely torn apart. He looked into his hands and saw a vase, one of his mom's favorites, and quickly set it down. Ike ran to the stairs to where his parents were. And they all watched as he cleaned up the mess he made.

"Bubbe, do you need help?" His mom's sincere voice echoed through the quiet.

"I can clean up my own mess," Was all Kyle responded with.

He didn't speak for the next few days.

"It's not your fault," It wasn't his mother's voice anymore, it was Kenny.

They were in the parking lot, and suddenly feeling sober.

And being a little trio again, Kyle felt a familiar warmth brush over him. "I know," He said.

Kyle looked towards the school, and noticed people were now starting to leave. And he got an idea. "I gotta go," He rushed out. Because he was still a little drunk, but he knew he could walk there in a good fifteen minutes. He needed to.

He barely gave the other two time to respond before he rushed off.

And he walked, leaving the school behind. He felt lighter than he did when he arrived. And he wanted to run, but he was never the runner type. So he just picked up the pace, and the warm feeling he had in the parking lot was there with him. And he felt good and okay, and at peace.

He was happy he walked into that gym. Happy that Wendy dragged him in. Happy that Cartman had vodka with him. Happy that Kenny had his dream family. Happy that he was home.

That's how he found himself standing in front of Stan's old home. And he was surprised to see Kenny and Cartman sitting on the porch waiting for him.

"Finally," Cartman stood up.

Kenny saw the confusion on Kyle's face and said, "Wife dropped us off."

And Kyle smiled. They all did. And they took a deep breath as they approached the front door. Kenny was the one to knock. Randy answered and his face went from shock to pure joy. He had always tried inviting the boys over even after the incident. He invited them to a lot of things, like camping and dinners. He probably missed their rambunctious nature.

"Hey," Kyle smiled, "Can we come in?"

Kyle watched as Randy's eyes swelled with tears, but they didn't come out. "Sure," He spoke softly. "Yeah," He almost yelled.

And it felt like they were sixteen and asking if they could harass Stan. And they shared stories as if they just happened, because Stan's parents had always been so open to hear of their adventures, good and bad. And everything was okay. Everything would be okay.

Stan was okay.

He was there. He was always there. With them. Through their thoughts, decisions, and actions. He always was there, with them. Kyle smiled and laughed as he told and listened to stories. Feeling all grown up, but at peace and forgiveness. Feeling sixteen and okay at the age of almost thirty.

And he remembered Stan always sitting on the floor in front of them. Smiling as his dad told stupid, embarrassing stories, with his mom pretending not to listen in the kitchen.

Kyle couldn't clean up the mess.

He never could have. Because it wasn't one he made.

It wasn't a mess. It was an awakening. They had all pulled out something good from it. Something so sad, something that tore them all apart, and they all grew from it.

They were all okay.

They were all forgiven.

They forgave Stan.

* * *

**That Year by Brandi Carlile. That's what this mess was based on. **

**But all seriousness now. It is okay to be angry and mad and have these human emotions that make us feel disgusting. I want open dialogue between you and somebody or something that you love, though. It is healthy. That's all this is. It's healthy human forgiveness. Be mad, but forgive, let them know that. Be sad, but forgive. Forgiveness is healthy closure. **

**And suicide is never okay, it leaves nasty questions and blame. It is scary. It is sad. **

**Thanks for reading. Review, vent, I honestly don't care what you do. Just feel okay in every decision you make. That's all this was about. It's more for me than you. Thank you very much. Hugs, kissies, and pixie dust.**


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